


The Imperium Cube

by theinsaneeraser



Series: Inside the Abyss [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emetophobia, Gen, Horror, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 06:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15504153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsaneeraser/pseuds/theinsaneeraser
Summary: The year is 1923 and Mishima may have just stumbled onto his biggest scoop yet; but something feels a little bit off.





	The Imperium Cube

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant as an intro to a new long fic I am writing, it takes place in the lovecraft universe and I just wanted to write a little bit of Mishima's backstory, a short thing. More after the fic. I did a lot of research for this fic, but I may still have missed some things, I apologize.

Mishima took a deep breath, and then let it out. It was a wild goose chase, whisper's by the few informant's he'd managed to make in the six month's since he'd become a writer for the newspaper. He'd worked really hard to get to where he was, and was turned away many times before they'd finally given him a chance. That was all he needed, Mishima had always had a knack for finding out information, and he quickly proved he could be quite the asset to the team. Even though he mostly worked on small stuff, this was going to be his chance to prove he could to bigger, and better cases.

Mishima tugged on the sleeves of his Hakama in nervousness. This had to be done very, very carefully. If his informants were correct, and the new rising business man was indeed tied in with the communists, he wasn't going to just say that out loud. It was going to take months of research and probing to get all the proof that he would need to expose the man for who he really was, and hopefully be allowed to chase after bigger fish then he currently was.

But to do so, he had to learn about his enemy first.

That was what led him to the house, new and framed with western-style designs. Western-style houses and buildings had gained popularity since World War I, and Japan became recognized as one of the 'Big Five' of the international order, or so the headlines had said. It was true though, it had brought in a wave of prosperity for them, until the great Kanto Earthquake shook the region. It had been a huge tragedy, and people were just starting to pick the pieces back up.

Mishima raised a hand to knock on the door, making sure it was loud enough to be heard, before he took a step back and waited for Kamoshida to make his appearance.

From what Mishima had been able to gather, the man was unwed. – which was unusual for a man his age, in his late 30's. With his growing wealth, however, he was sure it would be only a matter of time before father's were lining their daughter's up to be his wife. Aside from that, Kamoshida's business had been rejected quite a few times, and now it seemed like no one could turn him away. No matter who he talked too, he always got the deal that he needed.

It was suspicious, another thing for him to look into.

The door opened and Mishima bowed politely to the man. “Please excuse me.” He speaks formally, back as straight as it can be. “I am with the newspaper, and I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to accept an interview for next week's spread.”

“An interview, huh?” Shock sparkles Kamoshida's words, and his next was dipped in uncertainty. “About what?”

Mishima knew he had to choose his next words carefully, if he was going to snag this man, his eyes glanced forward just a bit to take in his outfit, very lavish, more than his current status. He smiled and kept himself bowed. “Everyone is talking about your rise from the ashes, it's honestly so inspiring.” Mishima smiles, though he knows he can't see it. “I personally asked if I could be the one to interview you.”

He watched the man's chest puff up a little, and knew he had to press on.

“And I want to write an article, so everyone can see what I see, how amazing you are to have gotten so far! The kimono's you produce are absolutely stunning.” He adds a little boyish wonder into his words. “Oh, I apologize, I have said too much.”

“Come in come in.” He waves a hand and Mishima straightens with a bright smile.

“Thank you, so very much, Kamoshida-san.” And he bows again before stepping forward into the empty space the man had left.

He was tall, taller than Mishima by at least a foot with black, curly hair and dusty brown eyes. It was a little unsettling, that they resembled Mishima's so much, but he didn't let it show on his face as he toed off his sandals and slid on the slipper's pointed out to him. The doorway was dark, no lights seemed to be on, though he could tell it led into a long corridor, which light by candle at the very end of it. He noted the pictures on the wall, before following the man into what he guessed was the greeting room.

It was large, with a short table in the center, and cushions for seating set around it. The room had pottery and old painting's for display, some he didn't quite recognize as Japanese either, of buildings in far off places; from the west he guessed.

Kamoshida took his seat at the head of the table, and Mishima quickly took his spot opposite, tucking his legs under him as he pulled the pencil from behind his ear, and his notebook from the contents of his Hakama. Once he was situated and ready, he turned to look over at Kamoshida with a soft smile, adding a soft wiggle to give off an air of boyish charm, or so he hoped. He wanted Kamoshida to think of him as a young fan, maybe he'd open up to him more willingly this way.

“May I ask for your full name, Kamoshida-san?” Was Mishima's first question, something simple and easy, something he always asked.

“Kamoshida Suguru.” He replied easily, waving a hand as his did.

Mishima wrote that down at the top of his notes, so far so good. “What inspired you to start your business?”

Kamoshida closed his eyes and chuckled, as if finding humor in what he was thinking of. “That started when I was a young boy.” He explained, eyes still closed. “I saw the most beautiful women, dressed in beautiful clothing.” He opened his eyes. “I too wanted to cloth these women in beautiful designs.”

Mishima had been writing the whole time, but the more Kamoshida talked the more Mishima got this feeling of something off. He didn't know if it was something he was saying, or just Kamoshida himself, but the way his voice changed when he spoke about beautiful women, was not the same as when he spoke about their clothing; it was odd. He added a note on that as well, putting a question mark next to it before he smiled.

“A very admirable goal.” Mishima nods. “And where do you get the inspiration for your designs.”

“The women themselves.” Kamoshida explains. “I have to meet every women I make a kimono for, sit them down, chat with them; get to know them.” He chuckled, but there was an eerie feeling to that chuckle, one which sent a chill down Mishima's spine. “It's in their personality, and the shape of their bodies that I find the inspiration, to create them a design like no other.” He smiles at Mishima. “Each kimono I make is unique to that person alone, you understand.”

Mishima nods, but now he's struggling to keep smiling, he doesn't know what it is, but something is turning his blood to ice, and the need to run, get away; be safe is rising. He pushes it all back down though, because Kamoshida is doing absolutely nothing to warrant this. He's being the perfect host, and answering his questions just how Mishima wanted him too.

But that _smile_ , his _tone_ ; it takes all his power not to shudder.

“You were rejected in the beginning, many times.” Mishima fights against the panic that's threatening to bubble up in his chest. “How did you over come this, who was the first to say yes, and why?”

The smile on Kamoshida' face faltered for a moment, and Mishima's heart dropped into his stomach. It was quickly replaced, but the tone in the room had changed, something Mishima had asked had left Kamoshida displeased. Maybe talking about being rejected was a bad idea, but it was a normal question to ask. He should have ;left it till later, and Mishima bit back a squeak as the man got to his feet.

“Wait here a moment, I have something to show you.”

Mishima nodded, and wondered if he should leave. This had taken a very bad turn, and he was only here for information on the man, but if he'd said something to upset him, then he wasn't going to get anything else out of him. He could try to butter him up, apologize for his insensitive question, beg him to continue to interview, and to not think too badly on the newspaper because of his mistake.

He couldn't lose this chance, not now. He would be in too deep at a later point.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out before he steeled himself for what he needed to do. When Kamoshida stepped back into the room, Mishima opened his mouth to apologize profusely, when the thing in his hand caught his attention. It was a cube, a metal cube with etched designs that Mishima had never seen before. At the top was a large button of sort's, and the sides were engraved with symbol's that seemed to grow a dim green in the light of the room.

Which was odd, but Mishima couldn't look away.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Kamoshida smiled. “It's called, the Imperium Cube.” He chuckled, when all Mishima could do was make a sound in response. “It's quite handy really, I just press this button on top.” Which he did, and the symbol's flared to life, the green glow engulfing the entirety of the box and a voice and something, something rose from within and flung itself at him, and a voice inside his head spoke in a language he didn't know, but understood completely.

_You will obey._

~***~

Mishima's butt connected with the pavement, a soft cry of surprise ripped from his mouth, an echo of one from another man, as he did. His head felt strange, like it was filled with sludge and his thoughts fought to emerge from within it's depths. His stomach churned and he only had seconds to turn his head before his stomach emptied itself on the pavement. But it wasn't his stomach that emptied itself, at least, it didn't feel like it was his stomach.

It felt like something was yanked from his nasal cavity, down into his throat and then back up out through his mouth. His eyes went to the pavement, and a large clack congealed bit of, of _something_. Dried blood? No, it was far to black, and were those squiggly bits appendages? His eyes went wide as his brain fought frantically to try and understand what had come out of him, it hurt, his head ached as he fought against something to try and remember, remember what had happened to him, an-

“Hey!” An arm grasped his wrist and he was yanked to his feet and away from the vomit – it had to be vomit, nothing else could it have been. “Hey are you okay?” The man made Mishima turn to face him, and he was met with beautiful gray eyes. “That's right, look at me.”

The man couldn't have been much older than Mishima, who was 18. He had medium, slightly curly black hair and wore glasses. His expression was one of concern and Mishima relaxed instantly in his hold. What had he been thinking? He must have just got sick right here in front of him, how embarrassing. He opened his mouth to speak, but his stomach just churned again and instead he closed his eyes and sank against the other man.

“Come on, stay with me. Hey!” His voice was slowly getting farther and farther away as he felt his consciousness leaving him.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically just a little info on how he and Ren meant, and even though his name is not mentioned, it is indeed Ren he run's into. I left the ending open and a mystery, as it will be explained in the long fic, I just wanted a little bit to maybe get people interested in the long fic, and explain how they already know each other. So yeah, I hope you enjoyed, please feel free to comment, tell me what you liked, didn't like, ect, it'll help me do better!


End file.
